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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035224">haunted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoegeta/pseuds/hoegeta'>hoegeta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>reasons why I'm going to hell [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dark, Demon Cloud, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Idk fam, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, happy spooky month, how do i even tag this lmao, i just be writin shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:41:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoegeta/pseuds/hoegeta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She is his in all the possible ways, his to use, his to destroy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>reasons why I'm going to hell [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>haunted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>a quick little thing I wrote to celebrate spooky month (even though it’s half over by now rip me)</p>
<p>uhhhh I hope you guys like this one? it’s a bit…weird LMAO (but im proud of it 🥺)</p>
<p>demon cloud demon cloud demon cloud demon cloud DEMON CLOUD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tifa knows it when she feels the chill in the air. The temperature drops a few degrees, and there’s no window open, no draft, winter long resigned its rule to the scorched embrace of summer. It comes at the same time it always does: half past three, not a second sooner, not a second later. She lifts herself from the pillow, goosebumps skittering all down her arms and legs. It gets colder.</p>
<p>But the touch is hot, and it sears right through her skin, ashes in her veins and tremors in her throat. His hand comes around her neck, pulling it back to rest on his shoulder; a hard chest presses into her back, and long legs come around her, encapsulating her. The kiss pressed against her nape is gentle and lingering.</p>
<p>“Did you miss me?”</p>
<p>She dreams of him, every waking moment, every sleeping moment, him, him, his pale hands, his eyes, red like rubies, the color of blood, the color of rot, the color of rage and fire. He called himself Cloud, a figure that materialized from her deepest fears, from her worst nightmares; she saw his eyes first, floating in a pool of black. Then he had limbs, and hair golden like the sun, and a mouth that quirked up and at her, and fingers that ran down her arms, and she could not stop it. She did not want to stop it.</p>
<p>That was months ago. He has come back ever since.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she breathes, and the hand that had been on her neck travels down, over her raging heartbeat, over her breast; the flesh pebbles over instantly, poking through the silk of her nightgown. She wonders why she wears anything at all when she knows he is coming. Her legs fall open on their own accord, and she sinks further and further into his hold.</p>
<p>His voice is a deep, rasping burst of warmth in her ear, raking down her spine in shudders. “Prove it.”</p>
<p>The fingers that draw idle shapes on her bare thigh are a bit distracting.</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“Show me how much you missed me.”</p>
<p>Her toes curl from the words alone, and a familiar heat begins to flood her core, pooling at the pit of her stomach. It was foreign, this feeling, before he came about; this was a taboo. This was a sin. This was unforgivable. <em>Whore, whore, dirty whore, God will never love you—</em></p>
<p>Cloud sinks his teeth into her shoulder, and it’s a welcome pain that tugs a cry out of her throat; it’s not enough for blood, but the mark will linger. He likes it that way.</p>
<p>God is gone now. Far, far gone, and she lingers in the grasp of evil.</p>
<p>The fingers that had been on her thigh finally move to the spot she wants them the most. Instantly, she jerks into him, spreading her legs even further. His fingers are calloused, rough as they prod at her folds, at the slickness that has gathered, but they go no further. Not inside, not at the hard nub begging for his attention. They go back to her thigh, painting the skin in her arousal.</p>
<p>“So wet for me already?”</p>
<p>She whimpers, something like begging, something like frustration. The chuckle he releases flutters over all her nerves, and both of his hands beckon her to turn around. She does, facing him, feeling her defenses crumble to dust, blood and gore and rot and lust, all of it, dancing in his eyes. The red of them is brilliant, even as everything else is flooded in the dullness of night’s grayscale.</p>
<p>Beautiful. Achingly so.</p>
<p>He pulls her closer, until she is straddling his lap, and he kisses her like he’s starved. There’s teeth and tongue and biting; he likes to bite, and his teeth are sharp as they shred through the skin of her bottom lip, but she likes it, likes the metallic taste that overwhelms her palate. His hands run down her back, hoisting her closer and closer, and she feels it between her thighs, the hardness, the need, the want. In the beginning, she wondered why it was her.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter. She wholeheartedly became his to ruin.</p>
<p>“Cloud, <em>please</em>,” she gasps as he nuzzles into her neck, peppering kisses over the skin. The jean material of his pants is torturous; it’s in the way. So close but so far. She moves her hips back and forth, desperate for something, anything. “I want it.”</p>
<p>He hums, a pleasant vibration against her throat. His hand tangles itself into her hair, the other on her hip. He follows her rhythm, bucking up into her hips as she moves back and forth.</p>
<p>“Show me how much you missed me.”</p>
<p>It’s not enough, but she wants something, anything. She moves her hips into him, rubbing herself over the hardness of his pants. It’s not enough, but the jean material is lovely against her clit, and she rubs harder and harder, chasing an empty high. His name is caught in her mouth, a fervent prayer, a pleading whisper. He holds her hips as he moves into her, and never once do his eyes leave her.</p>
<p>“Such a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>She whimpers, clutching his shoulders for leverage as she goes harder, harder, harder, her toes curling, her skin tingling, the pleasure mounting and mounting. It’s empty. It feels empty. It’s not his fingers, or his tongue; it’s not him, inside her, reaching the furthest depths of her, coating her walls with his cum. But she needs something, <em>anything</em>, and this is good enough. It’s good enough for now.</p>
<p>“Who do you belong to?”</p>
<p>“Y—you,” she stammers as she feels the beginnings of her high, familiar and long-awaited. It bubbles through all her nerves, flickers down all her veins like a relentless fire. It’s a tight coil inside her, and she keeps rubbing, rubbing, rubbing, and his jeans are soaked in her arousal, and she can’t stop, can’t focus on anything but him beneath her, the bliss she so desperately wants. “Cloud, I’m—I’m—oh my <em>god</em>—”</p>
<p>“Come for me,” he says, low and guttural, his nails digging into her thighs. She does, arches her back and comes with her voice caught on his name. The feeling is white bursts in her eyelids, trembles in her thighs, euphoric but horribly empty, and her walls clench on nothing. Under her, his jeans are even wetter than before, and at the will of his hands, she continues to move back and forth, her clit aching from the continuous pressure.</p>
<p>“That’s right,” he growls, hard and feral into her ear. “You’re mine. Only mine.”</p>
<p>It happens in an instant. A blink of her tired eyes, and he’s gone, just like he always is. She’s alone in her bed, the room cold but her body hot all over, sweaty and needy, all evidence of him gone, as if he had never been. But she knows that he had been there, had been the one holding her and kissing her. She feels empty, satisfied but not, the apex of her thighs sticky with her release. She wanted more.</p>
<p>And she laughs, morbid and hysteric, as she stares at the window, at the moon that conjures wicked, dancing shadows on the walls.</p>
<p>She is his in all the possible ways, his to use, his to destroy.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading love u &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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